Page 64 of A Rescue by the Rakish Duke
“Damian,” she breathed.
There was no mistaking the need in her voice. The tremor that overcame her. She was no longer in control, and yet she was all right with it.
Damian didn’t respond with words. They were beyond them now, grasping for completion that they both didn’t want to come too soon.
He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down gently, his eyes held hers. Gwendoline could see the fire there, mirroring the fire in the hearth or even more. She was aware that she had been stripped of not only her clothes but also her defenses.
At that moment, she was willing to be stripped of everything. For Damian. For this. For whatever this was.
He knelt between her legs, spreading them wide. His palms were hot against her thighs. The contact made her gasp, althoughshe should have already expected the heat. When his fingers brushed against the most sensitive part of her, she bit her lip to stifle a cry.
“You’re so beautiful, Gwendoline,” he murmured against her neck as his fingers slid in and out of her. “Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?”
Gwendoline could not speak, overwhelmed by desire. However, even if she could, he seemed eager to hush her words and keep her moaning. She felt this when his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue spearing her. Savoring her. Her back arched off the bed with every assault. He knew just how to make her feel so good, circling her most intimate places. Teasing. Tasting.
She writhed beneath him, her fingers curling into the sheets.
“Please,” she begged.
She didn’t know how to articulate her needs. She justneeded, as she always did whenever he pleasured her.
“Please, Damian.”
Each time Damian made love to her, he knew how to draw her pleasure and make her reach the heights of passion. She did not doubt that. Tonight, though, he seemed to take his time. He was slowly setting her on fire.
“Damian,” she begged again.
A part of him woke up from the fire he had buried himself in, and he took off his clothes in a rush.
Gwendoline had seen his naked body many times over the past few days and nights, but it still made her breath catch in her throat. Strong, sculpted, and scarred in some places, his body was devastatingly beautiful.
When he joined her on the bed, she eagerly reached for him and pulled him down for another kiss. He groaned into her mouth when his erection pressed against her thigh. She panted at the thought of having him inside her again.
Anticipation coursed through her, fueling her desire.
“Are you sure you want me like this?” he asked.
She knew what he meant. He was sad. He had just shared a secret he had held close to his chest for years. What they would do would not just be making love, but also a way of finding comfort.
“Yes, Damian,” she immediately responded. “Yes.”
With a growl of triumph, he positioned himself between her legs. Their eyes locked as he entered her slowly.
Gwendoline gasped at the welcome intrusion, feeling him slide into her inch by inch. When he was fully seated inside her, theystopped breathing for a moment. Stilled. They simply looked at each other and savored that moment of intimacy. Of oneness.
It was as if Damian knew exactly when to move. When he began thrusting into her, each stroke was deliberate and deep. Each one was perfectly measured to push her closer to the brink, and she matched him for every thrust and stroke. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer and control the pace and rhythm.
Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of their passion. They varied in intensity and volume, from whispered pleas and soft gasps to screams and grunts. The creaking of the wooden bed added to the symphony they had created.
Gwendoline clung to Damian, the only one she could see clearly. The fire in the hearth illuminated everything else, blurring all except for him.
She was lost in her emotions. Soon, she could barely see anything. She could only hear his breaths in her ear and the slap of skin on skin. She could feel him hitting every sensitive spot until she climaxed with his name on her lips. He followed soon enough with a loud cry. When he rested his forehead on hers, he whispered her name over and over.
Chapter Eighteen
After Damian revealed his secret to his wife and made love to her all night, peace settled over Greyvale. On the surface, yes, but internally, no.
A small weight seemed to have lifted after Damian told Gwendoline why he hated Montrose. Some tension lingered, of course, since the bastard was still somewhere, doing God knew what. However, their intimacy had given him peace.
